


Hearth

by lalazee



Series: Roy/Ed Week 2020 [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28112268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalazee/pseuds/lalazee
Summary: Roy sleeps like a fucking maniac. Maybe it’s a mixture of bad dreams—they’ve both got that shit in spades—or maybe Roy in sleep is the same as he is awake. Give an inch, take a mile, that kind of stuff.Ed has a bad habit of giving a mile with every important person in his life, so Roy is just about taking up the entire landlocked continent at this point. Ed tries his best to loudly complain about it, for old time’s sake.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Series: Roy/Ed Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056500
Comments: 11
Kudos: 222
Collections: Roy/Ed Week 2020





	Hearth

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 of RoyEd Week! Enjoy some porn!

Roy is still asleep when Ed pads into the hushed, hazy morning room with coffee. Dust moats float in the buttery light creeping between the heavy curtains, and Ed finds himself recalling the white fluff that floods the breeze from cottonwood trees back where he grew up. The environment outside is nowhere near as hospitable; a crust of ice encroaches the window pane, but it’s a nice memory all the same.

The second story fireplace softly hisses and glows with a flame long muted from the night hours, but a bone-deep comfort still suffuses the room and warms Ed’s flesh foot as he rounds the king-sized bed to place a sturdy, worn mug at Roy’s bedside table. Roy has a lot nicer cups, but ever since Ed lugged all his shit into this house, he’d quickly noticed how Roy gravitates toward Ed’s belongings over anything. 

Maybe it’s just nice to have someone from which to borrow things. Ed doesn’t question it. These days, he always pours Roy’s coffee in Ed’s cup.

Settling back into bed and reveling in the quiet Sunday thrum of city life outside, Ed cradles his coffee in both hands and sips slowly, eyes alighting on the figure splayed out across more than half the bed. 

Roy sleeps like a fucking maniac. Maybe it’s a mixture of bad dreams—they’ve both got that shit in spades—or maybe Roy in sleep is the same as he is awake. Give an inch, take a mile, that kind of stuff. 

Ed has a bad habit of giving a mile with every important person in his life, so Roy is just about taking up the entire landlocked continent at this point. Ed tries his best to loudly complain about it, for old time’s sake.

Frowning in thought, Ed considers Roy’s face in repose. Even without plugging in the 100-watt charm, he’s stupidly attractive. The unique tilt of his eyes from lands farther than even Xerxes, the thick crescent of lashes. The prominent curve of cheekbones and a mouth that requires a restraining order in foreign countries. 

Ed’s stomach does that hiccupping lurch it’s been doing for ten years, easily since he was fifteen. Like it’s pausing to catch its breath. Like looking at Roy Mustang is it’s own marathon run before the bastard even opens his mouth. 

At least the two of them give each other a run for their money on a daily basis. Ed’s never bored. Boredom scares the shit out of him. 

As if sensing the heat of Ed’s body, Roy sighs in his sleep and shuffles to Ed’s side of the bed and wraps a heavy arm around Ed’s waist, that distracting face shoved against Ed’s hip. 

“Hey,” Ed croaks, the timber of his morning voice still ragged, “stops cuddling my ass, you creep.”

Roy is still for ten seconds before Ed can tell by his breathing that he wakes. 

“Be quiet,” Roy mumbles, nosing at the leg of Ed’s boxers, lips pressed to his fuzzy thigh now. “‘M having a moment.”

“I swear you’d be happier with the lower half of me than the whole deal.”

“While I enjoy the whole deal, as you say,” Roy says, his arm anchoring Ed close as Roy presses heated, lazy kisses along Ed’s outer thigh, his hip, the skin around the waistband of his boxers, anywhere Roy can kiss that doesn’t involve actually moving his head more than a couple inches, “I have a particular love affair with your behind that I wish you would learn to respect. A man has his vices. For example, yours is being obnoxious.”

Ed squawks in dismay and roughly pinches Roy’s cheek, pulling at the stubbly skin, only honking louder when Roy sinks his teeth into Ed’s hip without any fucking remorse or common decency.

“I’m gonna spill this coffee on your inflated head, dumbass!” Ed isn’t sure if it’s a threat or a concern at this point, but he quickly sets the mug beside the bed and attempts to squirm out of Roy’s hold, which has turned into both strong arms around his waist in a crushing hug of total domination. “Let me out, you fucking heathen! Imagine if the world knew their Fuhrer was a biter? _Fuck_.”

Roy merely hums agreeably and keeps Ed in his merciless embrace, his cheek squished up against Ed’s side as he remains splayed beneath the sheets. He hasn’t even opened his fucking eyes yet and he’s a goddamn nightmare.

Despite himself, Ed sputters a breathless laugh, his exasperated protests weakening.

“ _Roy_ —”

“C’mere,” Roy murmurs, and then Ed is flat out on the bed with that heavy, insistent body pinning his into the mattress, leaving Ed gaping up into dark, sultry bedroom eyes and an easy smirk that melts his defenses the longer they’re together. Ed sucks in a sharp breath when one long thigh insinuates between Ed’s own, Roy leaning on elbows at either side of Ed’s ears as he leans in, sleep-hazy gaze raking across Ed’s burning face. “Good morning, Edward.”

“What’s good about it?” Ed snaps back, but damn if he can’t help himself from grinning anyway, his chest too full of this expanding feeling to fight it.

“ _Hmmm_.” Roy’s curved mouth brushes the corner of Ed’s smiling one and his knee sneaks higher, firmly pressing just where it jolts a gasp from Ed. “Would you like an itemized list or the short of it?”

“SHORT?” Ed bucks up with the intent of dislodging Roy, but only ends up rolling their bodies together where Roy’s skin is hot and smooth and a distinct hardness presses heavy against Ed’s belly. And Roy is so fucking _fast_ , his hands too damn skilled, and they take advantage of the movement, gripping the underside of Ed’s thigh to press it up, shifting to drag his clothed cock against Ed’s, the friction spraying sparks across Ed’s skin and stealing his breath. “ _Ngh_ —Roy, you _fucker_ —”

And Roy’s mouth is at Ed’s sensitive ear, damp and warm with a promising graze of teeth.

“Is that an invitation?” he rasps.

Ed's heart races.

“Since when do you need an invitation?” Ed says, already dragging Roy by the nape to lick into his mouth. Roy moans, hoarse with sleep and desire, his scarred, slender fingers flexing into the meat of Ed’s thigh, pressing it further against Ed’s body as he ruts in long, languid rolls of hips, driving the lazy morning fire between them into something roaring, deafening adrenaline in Ed's ears.

Roy’s seduction used to be so refined, so subtle and under the skin like a slow torture. And while it still is when Roy puts in the directed effort, he is so much more than that now. The cards have been on the table for so long that neither of them have to read them anymore. There’s no guesswork or tricks, no keeping a hand close to the chest, no wondering what the one is holding against the other.

And with that, Roy’s seduction is so. . .open. A wide, welcoming hearth. A constant invitation to simply step up and revel in the heat of him. Roy is warm and giving, he is an inferno of consuming desire, he is raw and wanting and human with Ed like he is with no one in this world or the next. 

There is nothing like this. Like them. 

The sheets sigh to the floor in the tangle of limbs, those quickfire hands shucking them both of clothing, their bodies meeting bare and blistering to the touch. Roy works Ed apart with clever fingers and a mouth like sin, licking him open alongside the slick, sloppy scissoring that lifts Ed’s hips from the bed in desperate cries for _more more more_.

Impatience simmers under Ed’s skin as Roy burns wet, open-mouth kisses up his body, and quickly their positions reverse, Ed straddling Roy’s hips with a flushed smile of victory. But Ed’s grin melts beneath the coal-dark sear of Roy’s gaze as he stares up at him, arms flung above his fray of inky hair upon the white pillow, his pale skin flushed high on those haughty cheekbones. 

Ed can’t say Roy is beautiful out loud. It’s way too much. It’ll always be too much. The emotion gets stuck in his throat like a rock because it’s too big, and there’s more to the words than just the words. But Ed can show him. He’s been showing him.

Neither of them close their eyes as Ed works himself down the pulsing length of Roy’s cock. Seated down and split open, Ed fails to bite back a whine as he swears he can feel the race of Roy’s heartbeat from his guts outward. Roy is more than inside him, more than part of him. And the way Roy rises up to wrap arms around Ed and bury his face in the sweaty curve of Ed’s shoulder, Roy feels it too. 

The air around them swells, damp and humid as heavy breathing, the muscle of Ed’s thighs quivering as he keeps his balance over Roy’s lap, dropping his ass over Roy’s cock with an increasing frenzy, the wet suction slap of skin on skin rising like a tide over their heads. Roy grips Ed’s asscheeks, spreading them and fucking up into him with a fury of power that leaves Ed choking and unable to make a sound but for the punch of breath that slams through him each time Roy thrusts in. 

Close, so close, _so close._ Frantic for Roy, all of Roy, Ed grabs at Roy’s face, cupping it in both hands, smashing their mouths together with more searching tongue than proper kissing, all messy desperation and need. Roy’s breathing hard into his mouth like running a marathon, and fuck if they aren’t always running at each other, toward each other, circles around each other; it doesn’t matter what they’re doing, they’re challenging each other. It’s what keeps the fire stoked and the stakes high. 

Roy grips Ed’s weeping dick between them and there’s everything, everything red and fierce all at once, molten and devouring. Ed cries out into the shockwaves as Roy sinks his teeth into the ridge of his shoulder, copper scenting the air further red as they come and quake around each other. 

Ed collapses backwards, arms heavy around Roy’s neck and dragging him with. The deadweight crushing Ed into the mattress is nothing, is perfect, is a heady knowledge of their effect on each other.

Around the time Ed regains the feeling in his jelly legs, Ed realizes Roy’s deep breathing is indicative of more than a really good orgasm.

“You motherfucker!” Ed slaps Roy on the ass, earning a jolt and grunt but no movement. “You’re taking up the entire bed! Again!”

“Edward,” Roy muffles into the crook of Ed’s neck, and his voice is chastising and infuriating in turn. “Give me some peace, would you? What an absolute terror.”

Ed’s brain short circuits.

“M- _me_? _Me_? _I_ am the terror? _I_ don’t give you any peace? _You_! It—it was you! And I— _I_ was drinking my coffee and—”

“Darling,” Roy says, kissing Ed’s ear and absolutely not moving from his spot of victory. “Do shut up.”

Roy does not take up the rest of the bed that morning. He gets the floor.


End file.
